2011 and You
by gracepresley
Summary: Justine tells the story of her and Toby. It's been forever, but she's only just now become ready to tell it. And it's gonna hurt. They both did things they thought they'd never do and became people they swore they'd never become, but everyone does eventually. So this is the story. The iJobuscus story, I guess.
1. Intro

A/N: This is just a little introduction. This IS a story about Toby and Justine, but it's not about how they're still totally in love and how they'll totally get back together because that's just bullshit. They're over. BUT they did have a story way way wayyy back when, and this is it. Or what I imagine it as. Obviously I do not know what really happened.

But yeah. Enjoy :)

* * *

I saw him in slow motion—just like in the movies. I couldn't look away from his messy brown hair and his hazel eyes and his smile that made every part of me feel good. It was him. It was really him. I was looking at Toby Turner and he was a dream.

We talked on the internet a few times, messaging each other on YouTube and that was great, but nothing compared to that moment.

We were far apart and he wasn't looking back at me; no, he was looking at his girlfriend. Of course he had a girlfriend. They always do.

I never did believe in love at first sight. You had to get to know them at least a little bit first. But at that moment I had some sort of feeling. It was a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that told me I was going to love him. I was going to love him more than I'd ever loved anyone and it was the scariest, most amazing thing I'd ever felt.

A few months after that I got a message in my inbox from him. He was moving to LA. And that's where the story begins. I think everyone knows how the story ends. I think everyone knows it's not a very long story. But it is a story that matters. It's a story that changed me forever and I think it probably changed him too, even if it didn't go quite the way we planned.


	2. Chapter 1

_Where was he?_

Maybe he wasn't coming.

_But he said he was._

But something might have come up.

_Would he have texted me to tell me he couldn't come?_

No, of course not. It's not like we were close.

_But he knows I like him, right?_

I was in Miami for some stupid conference. I didn't even know what it was really about. But I did know Toby was supposed to come, and that was the only reason I was excited. I kept looking back at the entrance, hoping I would see him walk in, but each time I was disappointed. My heart was racing. All I wanted was to see his face. I wanted that high he gave me when he smiled. I wanted that near heart attack I had each time he touched me. I just wanted him to be here.

But he wasn't and I was standing with Shay, Ian and Anthony who were talking about nothing of importance to me. Until Ian reached over and put a hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to reality.

"Don't worry. He's gonna come," he said, reassuring me.

"What? Who are you even…? I don't know what you're talking about," I said, knowing I wasn't very convincing.

They all started laughing and Ian nudged me like a child, saying, "You like Toby."

"Oh my God, shut up. I do not."

"Justine and Toby sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Anthony sang.

I smiled a little, not able to control myself.

"You guys are children, you know that?" I said in my most serious voice.

"Okay, so you _don't_ like him?" Shay spoke up.

"No," I responded.

"And if I told you he just walked in you wouldn't care?"

I quickly turned around, my heart jumping into my throat the second I saw him. I smiled uncontrollably, forgetting my surroundings and once again, he came in slow motion. He smiled and I got that strange feeling I got every time. It was like I felt each little particle in my body moving, crashing right into each other. I felt everything; I felt _alive_.

And then he was right by my side. He gave each guy a hug before me and it felt like I had to wait hours before finally, he wrapped his arms around me. He was firm. Strong. The kind of guy you'd want to hold you when you're sad, but also the kind you'd want to make out with against a wall.

"Okay, he's here now. Can we eat, please?" Ian asked. He'd been complaining that he was starving to death ever since I'd gotten there.

"Oh shit, I already ate," Toby said.

"What? So we've been waiting for you for like what, an hour, and you're saying we could've already been eating?"

Toby laughed.

_His laugh._

"Sorry, dude," he apologized.

We ended up eating at the restaurant in the hotel anyway. Toby didn't eat, he just ordered a beer (well, a few beers) and I didn't even eat much because I just kept watching him. He was mesmerizing to me. Just the way he talked, the way he moved. I just liked to look at him. And I smiled whenever he smiled and laughed whenever he laughed because it was just contagious.

And his eyes. Hazel eyes had never caught my attention before, but I found myself getting hooked on his. Sometimes they looked more green, sometimes they looked more brown, but other times, just in certain light, they were this golden color and I thought they were absolutely perfect.

As I watched him, though, I just thought about how little I knew about him. He was practically a stranger. He, just like anyone else, had been through hard times, some which changed him completely and made him who he was. But I didn't know about any of that then. Then he was just this crazy beautiful person that I happened to have the pleasure of meeting.

But of course he wouldn't stay that way. They never do. Eventually you always got to know them a little too well and there was nothing left to wonder about.

But I hadn't gotten to that point yet, so it didn't matter. He was still a perfect mystery.

* * *

A/N: Pretty cheesy-cute part, but hey, that's how it is when you like a guy, right? All those butterflies. Then it goes away. And that's where the REAL story starts.

Thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 2

I checked the mirror a few more times, playing with my hair, putting on a little lip gloss, then rubbing it off, thinking it might be too much. I shouldn't have spent so much time on my appearance. I knew that. If Toby liked me, he liked me. If he didn't, he didn't. No amount of eyeshadow or pretty pink lipstick would change that. But I just couldn't help but think that if I looked really good, it would help move the process along. I wasn't going to wait for him to make a move forever. At least I hoped I wouldn't do that. It'd be a little pathetic.

I was going to the Treyarch Headquarters to play unreleased video games and Toby just so happened to be going too. It was like my two favorite things—cute boys and video games. _I was living my freaking dream. _

I grabbed my purse and quickly left my apartment, excited to see him. I hoped he was excited to see me too.

The room we were in was relatively small. And red. It was very red. It all looked futuristic and awesome. I just wanted to play with everything. I could've lived there. Toby—who I spotted immediately—was already sitting with his headphones on, playing some game. To his left was some guy I didn't recognize and to his right was an empty seat.

_Did he save a seat for me?_

I smiled at the thought, but then frowned, because what if he didn't? Maybe someone else was coming that I didn't know and he was saving it for them. And what if I went to sit down there and it was all awkward because the seat wasn't for me?

_Maybe I was thinking too much._

I pushed all those thoughts out of my head and just went over to him. He looked up at me when I was by his side and smiled. I smiled back, of course (how could I not?) and he took his headphones off.

"Hey!" he said.

"Hey!" I replied in the same happy tone.

He stood up and gave me a quick hug that I wished could have lasted just a little bit longer, then sat back down.

"Sit, play some games. It's awesome," he said, motioning to the chair beside him, then added, "I mean I suck at it, but it's still cool. And you probably suck less."

I laughed lightly and sat beside him.

"I'm sure you don't suck."

"Oh, but I do. You just watch. You're gonna have a ton of fun kicking my ass, too."

"Sounds like it'll be a blast."

He grinned and reached for the headphones, slowly sliding them on. I did the same and then we played.

A few hours later and we were leaving Treyarch. I was a bit sad, because I knew that the next time I would see him would be at Playlist Live, almost two months away. Unless, of course, he decided to ask me out.

Which he did.

Well, sort of. He asked me if I wanted to get lunch. But I couldn't really tell if I was supposed to be a date, or just a friendly sort of thing. I wanted it to be a date, but there was a good chance it was just him being nice. I agreed to go, though, because at that point in my life I would have agreed to go anywhere with Toby Turner.

"How do you like LA?" I asked him when we sat down to eat.

"Oh God, it's great," he replied excitedly.

"Isn't it?"

"Yes. It's so… like, I don't know… I feel like anything can happen here, you know?"

"I know just what you mean. I remember loving the way it made me feel like I was part of something big. Everyone always talks about LA. Everything happens here. And it makes you feel more important just by being in it."

"Yeah. Exactly that."

He smiled, looking right into my eyes so intensely that I had to look down to my drink. I pulled the glass a little closer and played with the straw a bit, before breaking the short silence with a question.

"What made you come here?"

"Well, my girlfriend and I broke up," he began and I had to fight a little smile, "so of course, I had to move out."

_He lived with her. It must have been pretty serious. _

I wondered if he was over her. I hoped so.

"And when I moved out of our house," he continued, "I moved in with a friend of mine. Like a week after that he decided he was moving to LA. He asked if I wanted to come and I said yes, of course. Next day we were gone."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"That's awesome."

"Most people said we were stupid. I like awesome better, though. Thanks."

"No problem, Toby," I said.

I reached for my Coke to take a sip and when I looked back up he was staring at me, grinning.

"What?" I asked, growing self-conscious.

He shook his head and said, "I just really like the way you say my name."

"Well… I really like your name." I wasn't sure what to say.

"I really like you."

And just like in high school I got butterflies in my stomach and my heart in my throat and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling like a complete idiot and I looked down again. Eye contact could be terrifying sometimes.

"I…really like you too," I said slowly, quietly, then added, "Toby."

And we both just sat and smiled at each other for a nice long moment and I just knew I was fucked because I was going to fall hard and fast and there was no going back. I was going to love him.

* * *

A/N: Not much to say about this chapter. It's just another cute one. But the drama's coming, I swear ;)

Hope y'all enjoy this story. If so, maybe you could leave a little review? I'd really appreciate it. Thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 3

Toby called me February 6th right after Cat and I hung up from an hour long conversation about him. I was complaining about how he hadn't texted or called me once since our last lunch together. He told me he really liked me and then didn't call me for five days. Waiting for that call was death.

But once it finally came, I hit 'Answer' as quickly as I possibly could.

"Hello," I answered casually, coolly.

"Hey! It's Toby," he spoke.

I almost laughed because he gave me his number a couple months back. I knew who was calling. But I just said hey back, smiling at the sound of his voice.

"What was that game you wanted to get?" he asked.

I thought for a minute. I had mentioned to him that my viewers wanted me to play Little Big Planet 2 on my gaming channel and since it was a two-player game, we could play it together.

"Little Big Planet 2?"

"Yeah! We should get that. Like today. And coffee. We should also get coffee."

"I'd like that," I said, knowing that was a big understatement, "Coffee is always good."

"True. I'll pick you up in about an hour. Cool?"

"Cool."

_Cool._

"Alright. See you then."

"See you."

I pressed end and just stood there for a moment, holding my phone to my chest, smiling.

Eventually I would get used to him. His calls wouldn't make my heart race and his smile would no longer be contagious and his laugh would just be another sound and his voice would just be his voice. Even then I knew that, so I let that moment sink in. I cherished it because I knew it would soon be a memory and Toby would just be Toby.

Toby ordered iced coffee and didn't put even one packet of sugar in it. I had heard of people drinking coffee black, but I had never seen anyone do it. I wasn't even sure anyone did. I thought maybe it was just some horror story. But he took a sip, drinking it like it was nothing.

"Aren't you gonna put some sugar in that? Or _something_?" I asked.

"Nah," he replied, "I like it like this."

"How? Black coffee is like the worst tasting thing on Earth besides blue cheese."

"Well, I've always like the taste. But it's gotta be strong. And I've never had blue cheese; I'm lactose intolerant."

"Oh my God. That's awful. Cheese is the best. On everything."

"So I've heard."

I smiled to myself and took a sip of my iced coffee (with hazelnut creamer and sweetened with about five packets of sugar) and thought about how I just wanted to know everything about him. What his favorite condiment was, if he left his dirty clothes all over his bedroom floor or if he put them in the hamper, what song he loved but never admitted because it was potentially embarrassing, if he slept with his TV on or if he had to have everything completely silent. Just all those little weird things.

"It looks confusing," Toby said, looking at the back of the Little Big Planet 2 case.

"It sort of is, but Cat taught me how to play," I assured him, "It wasn't all that difficult. You just have to get used to it."

"But, Jesus, I've never even heard of this! This is gonna be real bad. I hope they'll think it's funny."

"They always find our struggling hilarious," I said, grinning.

"Very true."

Toby and I had both vlogged that day and I knew our viewers would be spreading rumors like crazy. In fact, it had already started. And honestly, I didn't mind it much. They could say whatever they wanted. Besides, I liked the idea of Toby and I dating, so most of the comments made me smile, especially since a large majority of them liked us together.

"Ahh, a baby game!" Toby said excitedly, pointing to a display in the center of the store.

It was a game for Wii. I had seen it before. You bought the fake stuffed baby and in the box (which was in the shape of a crib) was the actual game. You had to rock it and feed it and all that, just like a real baby, but you could just turn it off when it cried.

"Should we get a baby?" he asked seriously.

"I don't know, that's a pretty big decision," I joked.

"Oh, I think we're ready," he played along.

I giggled and he grabbed the baby off the display. He flipped it over, reading the back.

"Seems a lot simpler than that game," he said, nodding to Little Big Planet 2, "See, this I can understand."

"Oh, stop whining," I said, playfully hitting his arm, "We'll get the hang of it… eventually…"

He rolled his eyes, but then smiled and we got in the checkout line. While we were waiting, I looped my arm with his and pulled him as close to me as I could. He looked down and smiled at me. I got that same feeling in my stomach that I got the first time I saw him that told me I was going to fall in love with him, but each time I felt it it was more intense and I wondered when _'You're gonna love him'_ would turn to _'You love him'_.

Toby's place was pretty ordinary. It wasn't too neat; it wasn't too messy. A happy medium. There was no decoration, but he was a guy and he lived alone, so that didn't surprise me. A few empty bottles were lying on his two end tables. I could make out some dirty magazines in his closet. Typical guy's apartment. Didn't really tell me much.

We recorded two episodes of Little Big Planet 2 which we both found hard and pretty boring, but it would be more fun when we could play it a little better. When that was over, I figured I should leave. It was almost nine at night and even though I never wanted to leave, I said goodbye.

"I should probably get going now," I said, picking up my purse.

"Alright. I'll drive you,"

Toby got up and opened the door for me.

"It was fun today. Really," he told me, grinning.

"It was! And once we get good at that game, I'm sure it won't be so…" I paused, searching for the right word.

"Painfully boring," Toby suggested.

I laughed. "Sounds right."

"No, it was fine," he said, more serious, "I'd do anything with you."

"And if I jumped off a bridge-ˮ

"I'd be right after you."

"Oh, God."

He smiled.

And then he kissed me and he tasted like vodka and I had never liked the taste of vodka until that moment, so when he pulled away I pulled him right back thinking if I kissed him hard enough or long enough I could get drunk.

I got caught him in everything that he was. So caught up I barely even realized when his hands were under my shirt unhooking my bra and my legs were wrapped around him. He carried me to his room and because I just couldn't stand the thought of his lips not being on mine I let him take me.

For a moment we were one, our bodies moving together, synchronized. But the moment didn't last and soon I was lying in his bed, naked, and regretting every little bit of it. It was amazing, but we had only just kissed and gone on one date and I wasn't the type of girl that had sex on first dates. Or seconds, or thirds, or fourths. Not even fifths. Every guy I'd ever dated I had been with for at _least_ sixth months before we had sex. It was just so unlike me.

But I had gotten carried away, because he was flawless and he wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him.

I stayed there for about an hour, staring at his ceiling before I slowly got up, got dressed, called a cab and went home. I didn't even sleep that night, because I couldn't figure out how I felt. I loved it; no other guy had ever made me feel so good. But I didn't even know that much about him yet. I didn't even love him yet. So was it good or bad? Maybe time would tell.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading :)


	5. Chapter 4

It was two in the morning when I heard a banging at my door that woke me up. I was a pretty heavy sleeper and I imagined they must have been banging for a while to get me up, whoever they were. I was a bit scared, slowly getting up and looking through the peephole.

Toby.

Confused, I opened the door. He smiled at me, like it was completely normal to stop by in the middle of the night.

"Justine! I missed you so I just… came by."

He slurred his words as he spoke and then it made sense. He was wasted.

"Okay, well—," I started, then noticed the huge cut across his hand, surprised I hadn't noticed right off. Blood covered his entire hand. I even saw a few spots on the floor. "Jesus, Toby! What did you do to your hand?"

"Oh, yeah… I saw it when I was driving over. I'm not sure…" he answered, looking at his hand like it was the strangest thing, then laughed.

"Wait, you drove here? You shouldn't be driving."

"Oh, no it's fine. I'm a good driver. I have a license."

I shook my head. "You need stitches. You seriously don't know how this happened?"

"Nope," he said, shrugging, then laughed again.

I sighed and took his uncut hand and lead him to the kitchen. I wiped some of the blood off his hand, then took him to the emergency room for stitches.

As we waited for the doctor, Toby rested his head on my shoulder. He didn't move for so long I thought he might have been asleep, until he spoke.

"Justine, you are so beautiful."

I smiled, but wasn't all that flattered, because he was drunk and I couldn't stand drunk people. The smell of alcohol on his breath and his slurred words and just everything. I didn't drink much and maybe that's why it bothered me when other people did.

"Are you my girlfriend yet?" he asked, "Please be my girlfriend now."

"Okay," I replied, because he wouldn't remember this tomorrow anyway, though a part of me sort of wished he would, "I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yes!" he exclaimed, then kissed my cheek, "You'll be the best girlfriend ever. Not like my last one, right? No, of course not. You'd never do that."

"What'd she do?"

I hated to take advantage of someone in his state, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to know and at that point he probably would have told me just about anything.

"Oh, she fucked my best friend. Well, I mean, of course he's not my best friend anymore," he confessed, "Oh my God, we were together for two fucking years and she fucking fucked my best friend. What the fuck?"

His voice was growing louder and people were starting to look over at us. A woman and her son, who was probably about nine, were sitting across the room. She covered her son's ears and gave us a mean look, but the kid was laughing. I couldn't help but smile a little.

But then I looked back at Toby, now slumped over in his chair. He almost looked sad. I felt awful for him, I really did, but somehow selfish little thoughts still made their way into my head. Like what if he's still not over her? And if he's not, what does that mean for me? I tried my hardest not to think about that, because right then it shouldn't have mattered. All that should have mattered was that that bitch hurt him. So I leaned back and put a hand on his shoulder, then kissed his cheek. He looked over and smiled.

"But hey, whatever. You're my girlfriend now," he said and even though I knew it still wasn't just 'whatever', I gave him a smile, because everything would be fine.

After they stitched up his hand, I brought him back to my apartment. He slept in my bed and I sat with him, but didn't go to sleep. It was almost five in the morning and there wasn't much of a point in it anymore. So I just watched him sleep for a while, looking so peaceful. I wondered what had happened. I hoped he would feel better about everything. I hoped he would get over her, because he deserved better and also because, well, honestly, I really wanted him. Looking at him then, just breathing in and out, it made my heart race. I was sure he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I silently wished that one day I could be that perfect. That perfect where someone would just watch me all night long because they couldn't get enough of me. Because they were afraid that if they looked away I would disappear because nothing that perfect could be real.

I made coffee for Toby, because I just knew his head would be hurting. And it was. He walked out of my room with one hand on his head, squinting at the light.

"Good Morning," I said happily, handing him a mug of very strong, very black, coffee.

He took a sip, then lifted up his hand, looking at it with a confused expression.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You said you didn't know. You cut it. Somehow. Took you to the ER."

"Seriously? Oh God, I'm sorry, Justine."

"Don't be. It was nothing."

"No, no… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… It won't happen again. I swear."

"I know. It was just one of those nights… You were drunk. It happens."

He shook his head. "Okay."

We sat in silence for a few minute, sipping our coffee. I was wondering if he was thinking about the same thing I was. Apparently he was, because he was the one to break the silence and I was hoping he would just bring up something insignificant, like maybe Little Big Planet 2 and we could talk about that. But no. No, of course not.

"So you kinda ditched me last week. What happened?"

"Um… I don't know," I answered and it wasn't a total lie.

I wasn't all that sure why I went home. I could have stayed. We could've gotten breakfast, just like a real couple. In fact, it would pretty much make us a real couple. Real couples spend the night after having sex. When someone left before the sun came up… well, that was usually just a one night stand that you woke up regretting.

"Well next time, stay. I'd like you to stay."

Him saying 'next time' made me happy and scared me at the same time. Did he expect sex now?

"Next time?" I said what I thought for once.

"I'm sorry… Do you not…? Are we not…?"

Although he wasn't finishing his sentences, I had a pretty good idea of what he was asking. Are we not a couple?

"No, we are… I mean, if you want to be, we are. But I just… Isn't it a little soon for me to be… staying?"

"I'm gonna just assume by 'staying' you mean having sex. And well, if you feel it is, then I guess it is."

"But you don't think so?"

"Well, if we're dating, no. Not really. But it's fine. Whenever you're ready."

"Okay…" I said, but it really wasn't okay.

I mean, he was basically saying he didn't see a problem with our _first kiss_ turning into _sex_. It was pretty much our first romantic interaction actually and to him it wasn't even a big deal that we ended up sleeping together. I didn't like that he didn't think sex was a big deal. It was called making love for a reason. You were supposed to be in love.

But I just kept quiet and maybe I shouldn't have but I didn't want to screw up what we had going, because it was pretty great. He said we were _dating_. I tried focusing on that.

_I was dating Toby Turner._

Finally.

* * *

A/N: Reminder: Reviews make my day and keep me going, so if it's not too much trouble, I would really appreciate anyone leaving one :) I really would like to finish this, too, because I like the ending and because I never finish anything (woops). Reviews are like my motivation.

Thanks for reading (if you're reading) :)


	6. Chapter 5

A part of me hated Valentine's Day because there was just too much pressure. Pressure to look pretty, pressure for a date to go well. I had already changed my dress several times. I knew we were going to a fancy place and I didn't ever go to fancy places. When I did, I didn't know what to order. I just prayed everything would go smoothly, because my Valentine's Day dinners never seemed to.

Toby showed up in a suit and tie and it was so strange because I never thought I'd get to see him in anything but a Tobuscus shirt, but he looked so handsome. And maybe a bit uncomfortable.

"You look amazing," he said.

"Thank you. That's a great suit."

"It's the only one I have," he admitted, shrugging.

I giggled. That wasn't surprising.

"Well… you ready?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He smiled and took my hand and didn't let it go—not even in the car.

* * *

At the restaurant there were countless couples, all dressed in their best, all smiling at each other and holding hands from across the table. So happy to be together on such a wonderful, magical night. I bet a few of the guys had rings in their suit pockets. It was nice.

But Toby wasn't saying much. He had already refilled his wine glass three times and we hadn't even gotten our food yet. I could tell something was up, but when I asked if he was okay he said yes. That meant nothing, though. Everyone always said yes and they smile a really nice smile to make sure you believe it.

By the time our food was there, we needed another bottle of wine.

Toby ordered one and when the waiter walked away he said, "I don't really like wine."

"Oh. Could've fooled me," I joked, but it wasn't really a joke.

He smiled, then looked down. "I don't really like Valentine's Day either."

"Oh?"

"I mean, this is nice and you look so beautiful but I just… I don't really like it. So I'm sorry if I'm not really saying much; I don't have much to say."

I thought for a minute, then simply said, "Let's go."

He looked up and sat his fork down.

"What? No. No, I didn't mean… I'm sorry—,"

"No, really. I don't particularly like it either. Let's just go. Back to my place. Let's get some candy. Let's record some Little Big Planet 2. Let's drink some beer. We don't have to do the whole fancy dinner thing. It's not like us anyway."

He smiled a very real Toby smile.

"You're perfect," he said.

"_You're_ perfect," I said.

He shook his head and took his last sip of wine.

"Nowhere near it."

* * *

Toby started toward the driver's side of the car, but I stopped him.

"You've been drinking," I reminded him.

"So have you," he reminded me.

"Not even a whole glass!" I argued.

"Still counts!" he argued.

"I think I should drive."

"Do I seem drunk to you?"

"No, but—,"

He smiled and got in the car. He cranked it up. I knew I shouldn't have, but I let him drive. He seemed completely sober. Still I knew I should have forced him to give me the keys, but I just got in the passenger seat. Things were fine. We made it to Rite Aid alive.

I went to the front of the store and Toby went to the back. I got two heart-shaped boxes of chocolates—both bigger than my head—and Toby got the beer.

When we were standing in line to check out, he turned to me.

"Thanks for this."

In response, I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed him. Kissing him was what I wanted. Being with him or just being _near_ him. I didn't care where we were. It was his taste and his skin and his hands and his hair. It was just the way he was that really fascinated me. The way he moved and talked and smiled. I wanted to think of him that way forever. I wanted to see him as perfect forever and maybe that was the problem.

* * *

"Shit, there's no, like, guide that tells you which is which," Toby complained, looking at the all the chocolates, "How am I supposed to know which one's coconut?"

"God, I hate the coconut ones."

"Me too! I always avoid them. But if there's no guide I can't tell which ones I need to avoid."

"We're just gonna have to eat them to find out! That's the fun of it!"

"No," he said simply.

I laughed and picked the round one with the chocolate sprinkles.

It had orange inside.

"Ooh! It's orange. See, it's so exciting!"

"Yeah, my heart's racing," he said dryly and I playfully punched his arm.

"So, um, what is it about this joyous day that you don't like?" I asked him.

He looked surprised and I understood. It was a bit out of the blue, but he knew I'd ask. I had to ask.

"Uh, well, my high school girlfriend killed herself on Valentine's Day. We were supposed to have dinner that night, but, uh, nope…" he said in a shockingly casual tone.

My mouth dropped open and I just stared at him for a minute, trying to process what I had just been told. He was really an open book, I was starting to find out. I just thought he would tell me he didn't like getting dressed up or something.

"Oh, my God, Toby, that's awful. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well she was my first love, you know? It just kinda… still hurts. I had no idea she was even depressed."

"Seems like you never really know. And you can ask someone if they're alright about a million times and they'll say yes no matter what."

"Yeah… people have got to stop doing that."

"So are you okay?" I asked him seriously.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped. Instead, he picked up a chocolate and took a bite. Immediately, he looked disgusted and ran to the trash can. He spit it out. I was already laughing because I knew what had just happened.

"Fucking coconut! I swear to God!" he yelled.

I put a hand over my mouth to try and muffle my laughter. Way better than a fancy restaurant.

* * *

A/N: Just something I want to say: I hate that I like iJobuscus because NO ONE else does anymore. I guess I just do because I feel like back then they both seemed way nicer… and less full of themselves. But whatever, I guess. I know they won't ever get back together and that's okay. That's not at all what this story is about anyway.

Okay. Yeah.

Review? Please. If you like it. Or if you pity me because I need reviews to feel validated as a person.

Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 6

On Toby's birthday we went go-kart racing. It was fun; I had a nice time. A couple of Toby's friends were there too and they were really cool. But there was something I just couldn't get my mind off of no matter how hard I tried.

_Maybe I'm just stressed._

I thought to myself as the boys were talking and the waiter brought our food.

_But what am I stressed about?_

I took a bite of my chicken, but it didn't taste right, so I just moved my fork around my plate a little. My mom would have told me to quit playing with my food, as if I were a child.

_Nothing. I'm not stressed about anything._

So what was it, then?

I got the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach right then, and I got up to go to the bathroom. I didn't need to use the bathroom. It was one of those times when you went to the bathroom just to be alone for a minute and you prayed to God it was empty.

It wasn't empty, though. A little girl—maybe four or five—was in there with her mother. The mom was holding her up so she could wash her tiny little hands. So I went into a stall and locked the door, like I used to do when I was in school and my feelings were hurt and I needed to cry. I surprised myself when I actually _did_ cry, though. It was silent, but a tear escaped my eye and I just looked up at the ceiling with blurry vision.

I was thinking about that little girl and her tiny hands and her mom having to hold her up because she couldn't reach the sink all by herself. She needed her mom's help to do something as simple as washing her hands.

_Her tiny little, fragile little hands._

I was four days late and even though that wasn't much, it was a lot for me. I was never late. Not since I started using birth control, anyway. And that's another thing. _I was on birth control_. So it was impossible. It had to be impossible. I wasn't mom-material. I didn't even like kids, not even when I was one. I always thought I fit in better with adults. They were cool; they were free. As a teenager all I wanted was to be eighteen. I wanted to have my own apartment and my own job and a boyfriend that I could have sex with any time I wanted to. Being a mother just wasn't in the cards for me. It never would be.

When I heard the door shut and I knew I was alone, I walked out of the stall and went over to the mirror. I wiped away some tears and a little smeared mascara. I didn't look bad. I smiled at my reflection. It was a believable smile. I kept it on when I walked up to our table.

When I sat down, Toby took my hand. He leaned over and quietly asked if I was okay. I told him I was. He believed me and he smiled. His smile always made things okay and I felt better.

When we were done eating and his friends left, Toby asked if I wanted to come back to his place.

"I'm really tired. I'll just go home tonight," I replied.

"Oh, okay," he said.

His tone was a sad one and it hurt me so much I almost changed my mind about going home with him, but I couldn't. Not that night. So instead I grabbed both his hands and pulled him down toward me. I kissed him long and hard. He always tasted of alcohol and it was addictive, much like the real thing.

When I pulled away, he smiled.

"Goodnight, Toby," I whispered, then went to my car.

I stopped at Rite Aid on the way home. I bought two pregnancy tests, both from different brands. I'd always heard you were supposed to take more than one. It was in all the TV shows. At the cash register my heart was racing.

When I got home I rushed to the bathroom. I drank my entire glass of Coke and then some at dinner, so I had a full bladder. First, I took the Clearblue one. I'd always seen commercials for it. It had to be accurate. Then, before I looked at the first one, I took the second. EPT. I'd seen commercials for that one too. Commercials had a bigger impact on me than I thought.

Once the time was up, I froze, staring straight ahead, into my mirror, in front of the bathroom counter where I had set them. I had so many things running through my head and I knew that just looking down could change my entire life.

I stayed like that for a long time until finally, I looked. That image is still ingrained in my mind. The two tests, side by side, on top of the granite. The one on the right read 'Pregnant' and the one on the left had a blue plus sign on it.

I felt like I was going to throw up or pass out or both. I made a decision the second I saw it, even if I didn't want to admit it. I knew exactly what I was going to do. For a person like me, there was only one option.

But I didn't want to think about it all right then. So I just curled up on the couch, feeling numb, and watched Full House for a while. I fell asleep some time. Not sure when.

At two in the morning I was woken up by a knocking at the door. Just like weeks before, it was Toby. The thought of him scared me at that moment because I was afraid he'd be able to tell something was bothering me and I didn't want to tell him. Not then, not ever.

But when I opened the door and saw him leaning on the door frame and smiling like an idiot I realized he was drunk. I forgot that Sober Toby didn't come by at 2 AM.

"Justine, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I know you said you didn't wanna, like, hang out tonight. I know you said you're tired but I'm just… I needed to see you. I'm sorry," he slurred and took my hand.

"It's okay, Toby," I told him and led him inside.

But I wasn't sure it really was. The first time I just thought he had bad night. He got drunk. It happens to everyone sometimes. But it was the second time. The second time in not even one month.

"Thank you. You're so understanding. Justine, I love you."

When he said that, my heart started pounding. I looked right at him. He just smiled. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. I kept looking at him, searching for some sort of look that could tell me if he meant it or if it was just the alcohol talking.

"I love you too," I said, shocking myself.

I didn't mean to say it. It just came out. And it was out. And he looked totally normal, like I hadn't said anything he didn't already know. But I realized I did love him then. Or maybe I already knew. He was just playing with my hair now, not meeting my eyes. I wanted him to look at me but it was like he didn't see me at all. I loved him and he didn't _see_ me. He was just wasted, though, and if I told him earlier today or if I told him tomorrow he would look at me and he would feel something.

That's what I told myself every time he was like that from then on. He was just having a bad night was all. The next day he would be fine. I tended to overlook the fact that he was always drinking something. He never hurt me. Alcoholics are angry. Alcoholics are dangerous. Toby wasn't either of those things. Toby was fine. Toby would be fine. So I took him to the couch and he laid down. He fell asleep with his head in my lap and I watched.

"You're fine. You're fine," I kept repeating to him as I stroked his hair, "You're gonna be fine."

* * *

A/N: Well I liked this. Anyone else? No? STILL no? Is it the fact that no one ships them anymore of is it my writing? If it's my writing, please let me know. If it's shitty I need to know.

If you want me to continue, please leave a review. Please. This is me begging. xx


	8. Chapter 7

Okay so, Guest, your little comment motivated me and I'm gonna try really hard to finish this because I never finish anything and I've sorta already got the ending down and I really like it so I'd like to get there. Yeah. Thank you. Trying to remember a writer should write for themselves and not someone else.

* * *

My mind was cluttered. My life was a mess.

I was thinking about the baby and the 'I love you' and the drinking all at the same time and I had a headache. It was all too much.

I wanted to talk about it but I didn't know who to talk to. Obviously I couldn't talk to Toby about it. He could tell something was wrong and whenever we were together he'd ask if I was alright. I just kept telling him I was fine and once I did, he said okay and didn't ask again. He didn't believe me—I could tell—but he never pushed me. Maybe because he never answered the question honestly either.

It was all too much for me. So I invited Cat over and as I waited I was trying to decide what all I would tell her. Probably everything, if I was honest with myself. I'd always had a problem where once I let out one thing, the rest all came with it. I never just had one problem. I always had tons and they all came at once, right when I thought things were okay. Right when life was getting good.

When I heard a knock at my door I got up quickly from my place on the couch and practically ran to the door. I felt like I would explode if I didn't tell someone _something _right away.

Cat stood in front of me, smiling.

"Hey!" she said happily, but I wasn't happy.

I opened my mouth to say hi back, trying to muster up a happy tone to match hers, but it didn't come out. I just started crying. Right then. Out of nowhere. Not even sure why, but maybe I just needed to cry. Or maybe it was a hormone thing. The smile on her face faded, and her expression went to one of confusion.

"Justine? Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked, putting a hand on my shoulder, bending down slightly to look me in the face.

"No. No, no. Everything is so wrong!"

"God, come here," she said, and took my hand, leading me to the sofa.

I sat down with her and she put an arm around me. I cried into her shoulder for a bit longer, then finally, I quit. The tears just stopped coming. Maybe I had run out of them.

"Everything was so good," I began, sitting up straight. Cat looked at me, ready for whatever I was about to say. I continued, "He's so cute and I just liked him so much. And we were just having fun. Just getting to know each other."

"And now? It's not like that anymore?" Cat asked.

"No. No, because now I love him. I really, really do."

"Oh my Gosh! Well, that's a good thing, right?" she said excitedly.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging.

"Have you told him yet?"

"Yeah," I replied, not meeting her eyes, "I have. Once."

"Did he… say it back?" she asked cautiously, afraid I would say no—afraid that was the problem. But it definitely wasn't.

"He was the one who said it first. He was wasted, though, so it hardly counts. It was like two in the morning and he said it and I just, without thinking, said it right back. I doubt he even remembers it," I explained.

"Well… talk to him about it," she said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, "Justine, I hate to be a bitch, but I don't really see the problem."

"I'm pregnant," I blurted.

Her eyes widened and she looked away from me, finding a sudden interest in the orchid on my coffee table. She looked at that flower for one very long moment.

Finally, though, she looked back up at me and spoke. "There's the problem. Okay. Well. I don't have much to say to that. You know, other than _Oh my God_. Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God."

"Oh my God," I repeated quietly to myself.

_Oh my God._

Saying the words out loud made it more real and I wasn't prepared for that. I wasn't prepared for it being real. Before I thought I had a few separate problems, but as I was talking to Cat I realized that they were all connected and them being connected made it all worse.

"What do I do? Tell me what to do, Cat," I begged.

"Well, I know this isn't what you want to hear but all of what you're telling me are things that you need to talk to _Toby_ about," she said, then added, "I mean, obviously I'm here if you need me. Always. But he is too, right? And this is something he needs to know."

I thought about what she said, knowing she was right, but at the same time scared to death of telling him. It was too soon. He'd freak out and even though he was a good guy and I knew he really cared about me—maybe even loved me—I couldn't help but imagine him leaving. Deciding he couldn't deal with it and walking away. I hoped he wasn't that type of guy, but I couldn't be sure. And if he didn't have me to come to at 2 am, where would he go? The thought scared me in more ways than one.

But it was something I had to do.

* * *

A/N: Know it's kinda short and it's not my favorite thing in the world but I'm just trying to get back into it, I guess.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: So there's talk of religion in this. Hope this doesn't bother anyone. I can tell you it is relevant to the story and I believe it's very necessary. Also, religion comes up in real life, right? Eventually it's a question we all ask someone after knowing them a certain amount of time. It's a huge part of people's lives. Now, of course, I don't know much about their real religious views, so I just sort of made it up in a way that would work with this story.

ALSO: This is not rated M, as you can see. There's nothing too graphic, so um, if you're not into that and it starts to get a little… _steamy_, I promise it won't get too… _steamy_.

* * *

It was St. Patrick's Day, meaning I was leaving for Pittsburgh the next day and, honestly, I was relieved. It was a way of escaping my problems. I had a bad habit of doing that. I figured if I ignored them long enough they'd go away and although in the back of my mind I knew that was in no way true, I liked to believe it.

Toby picked me up around noon for lunch and as we were eating we talked about things like YouTube comments and video games and our hometowns, but there was something else I had on my mind. Something that I had wanted to know for a while. The answer didn't matter to me; I just wanted to know what it would be. So not long after the waitress came and gave us our food I asked him.

"Do you believe in God?"

He froze, a fry halfway to his mouth. He raised his eyebrows at me, then placed the fry back on his plate slowly.

"Woah," was all he said.

"I'm sorry. I was just… wondering," I said, regretting even asking.

"No, no, it's fine. Um, I just wasn't expecting it. But yeah. I do. I mean, sometimes I don't, but most of the time I do."

"Sometimes you don't?"

"Yeah. I mean the idea of God existing is a little absurd. Like Santa Clause or something. But then I think about, like, the world and our bodies and how they work and how everything just comes together at the right time and how I'm me and I'm here and that out of the, like, the thousands of sperm that are released I happened to be the one to get there first and if I was just a second later I could be a completely different person. And I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you. And if God's not real then there's no reason for me to be talking to you. There's no reason for me to be alive. And I can't live thinking that way, so, just being the person I am, I have to believe in God," he explained.

I was silent for a minute, taking in what he had said.

"Do you?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"I don't know. Sometimes," I answered, smiling.

"Right now?"

"I do."

He grinned and it was quiet again, but we kept our eyes on each other. I understood what he said because at that moment I hated to think it was all just random. I wanted there to be a reason I was looking at him. I wanted there to be a reason I was pregnant. I wanted there to be a reason for the world. So I decided I'd believe in God at least for a minute or two.

That night when he came by at 2 a.m. I was awake. My sleeping schedule was officially fucked up because of him, but I was okay with it in a way, because I loved him.

"Justine!" he said happily when I opened the door.

Although I had never liked drunk people, I liked him. I liked him because he reminded me of a child. Eyes innocent, smile genuine, hair even messier than normal and just how excited he was to see me. It was beautiful. So I smiled back at him and led him inside my apartment. He stumbled a little, but caught himself and laughed.

He turned to me abruptly and kissed me. I kissed back. We broke apart for a minute, but then I pulled him back. I had gotten so used to his taste. So strong, like whiskey or sometimes it was vodka and the first time it was a shock. But it was so familiar now. It was just him. And as I wasn't just in love with one side of him. I didn't just love sober—or was he ever really sober?—him because I could really talk to him and get him to really look at me. I loved him when he was totally hammered and laughed at things that weren't funny and wouldn't look right at me and slurred every other word. I just loved him and everything that came along with that.

So I wanted to show him that. I wanted to really show him how much I loved him, even if he wouldn't remember it in the morning. As we kissed, I put my hands under his shirt and he did the same to me. He started to pull it up, but I put my hand on his, stopping him.

"Do you love me?" I asked, breathing heavily after not breaking our kiss for what seemed like hours.

"I love you more than anything else," he replied.

I leaned back into him and our lips collided once again. I took my hand off his and he pulled my shirt off over my head. His lips traveled down my neck to my breasts and I let him do whatever he wanted because then I didn't care. I just wanted to be right there with him and I just wanted to feel him all over every part of me. Our naked bodies pressed together so tightly, as close as we could possibly be, so close all we could think about was each other. Not one bit of selfishness there. Just him, him, him. Everything else could just disappear so that for one moment, the world could be ours.

* * *

A/N: This author's note's a little pointless but I just wanna say I'm really fucking proud of those last couple sentences helllll fuckin yeah


	10. Chapter 9

"I feel like this is happening too much, Toby," I said shyly as I handed him his coffee.

He took a sip, looking down. He nodded.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," he said, "I just… sometimes I need to… see you."

"What's seeing me gonna do for you?" I asked.

"Oh, everything," he answered quickly. Simply.

And I smiled because it was such a sweet thing to say. At the time, I failed to see a problem with what he'd said. It was just a little make-you-blush boyfriend line.

"Well I love seeing you. I just… don't like you driving like that, you know? It scares me, Toby."

"I'm sorry."

"You said that already," I reminded him, with just a hint of anger to my voice.

"Well, what else can I say?"

"You could say you'll never do it again," I suggested, crossing my arms.

"Well, I can't promise that."

"Why not? Toby, you're gonna get yourself killed doing that! And you can say it won't happen to you, because that's what everyone says. And then it does," I said, raising my voice, angry now.

"Justine, I'm fine, okay? I'm an adult. I can take care of myself," he argued, getting mad as well.

"Clearly you can't. You're not even smart enough to know not to fucking drive while you're wasted," I practically yelled at him, then added, "Oh, which is all the fucking time. If you wanna talk about _that_."

He raised his eyebrows, offended. But I wasn't sure which part really offended him. All of it, most likely. I just waited for him to respond, making sure to keep my look mean. But he didn't even say anything. He just looked at me, then shook his head. He sat down at my table with his coffee and it was silent for what seemed like forever. After so long, I just wasn't angry anymore. I was only tired.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," I finally spoke.

He looked up from his phone and nodded to let me know he had heard.

I walked to my bedroom door, but stopped right under it and turned back around.

"You're still gonna drive me to the airport, right?" I asked sheepishly.

"Yeah," he answered, "And don't worry; this is just coffee."

He smiled; I didn't. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and closed the bedroom door behind me.

After showering, I didn't bother with makeup. I just blow-dried my hair and put contacts in. After the fight—well, I'll just call it an argument—with Toby, I didn't even wanna leave my room. It was the first _real _disagreement we'd had. But I knew it'd be okay. Relationships have those times and it's almost always short-lived.

"We should probably go," Toby said, startling me.

I looked up to see him standing at my bathroom door. I nodded, just assuming he was right because I hadn't even checked the time.

We took my things down to his car and rode in silence. I messed with the radio a little, hating all of his preset stations. We didn't like the same music at all. His were all rock and, surprisingly enough, country. I was more into pop. But he wouldn't even tolerate pop, so I just left it on Kenny Chesney. At least I thought it was Kenny Chesney. I didn't know shit about country.

"Are we alright?" he asked just as LAX came into sight.

"Yeah," I replied like it was nothing.

"Justine. Really."

"Really. It's not a big deal," I assured him with a smile.

And he didn't say anything else and I didn't either at first, but there was too much going on in my head to not speak. So I spoke. I probably shouldn't have, but I did.

"No. Actually, no. It's a big deal," I began, "It's a big deal because _I'm in love with you_. And yeah, we haven't even been dating two months and some people say that isn't long enough, but I know they're wrong because I love you. And you know, you said you loved me. Oh, I doubt you remember. You were drunk off your ass. So of course I didn't know if you really meant it. And it sucks so much not knowing. And I just want this to be simple. I want it to be like we're a new couple. We're all lovey dovey and we piss all our friends off and call each other pet names and all that stupid stuff. But it's not like that at all. There's already so much going on here and everything's so fucked up right now. I'm pregnant for God's sake! We've barely been dating for a month and I'm _pregnant_."

I was crying then and it wasn't until I was done speaking that I realized how upset I actually was. And what I actually said. Because I was just talking, rambling on and paying no attention at all to the words coming out of my mouth. I said I lot that I probably shouldn't have but as soon as I said that last part, everything before it disappeared.

Toby was just looking at me, eyes wide, a horrified look on his face. I could barely even meet his eyes.

"What?" he said quietly, shocked.

But some time in all my rambling we had stopped moving. The car was parked right in front of an entrance and if I didn't get out I would have held the line up, for which I was glad. I wanted to get out of there anyway.

"I have to get out now," I told him and opened my door.

He didn't even respond to that and I was curious as to what he was thinking, but not so curious I would ask. I could take a guess anyway. It was most likely something like, _'Oh shit.' _That's how it was for me anyway.

I got my bags out and it wasn't so much stuff that I would need his help, so I just went into the airport and left him with that. I walked away from my problems and just focused on the fact that I would soon be in Pennsylvania with my family. Everything was always okay there.


	11. Chapter 10

I hadn't gotten a call or text yet from Toby since I got to Pittsburgh and I was nervous. I just wanted to talk to him, but I also didn't want to at all.

I tried to get him off my mind because I was at home now and all of that was back in LA. I didn't need to worry about it. I could just have fun with my parents and sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins—they were all there for my birthday. I wanted to enjoy it, but I couldn't. My sisters could tell when something was going on.

The night before we were all watching old home videos and it was nice, but I just couldn't enjoy it. I was wondering when/if he was going to call. He should have, being my boyfriend and all. I just wanted him to call. Or even a text would suffice. Just _something_ to let me know that he is still my boyfriend.

"Justine?" Breanne said my name, bringing me back to reality.

I was sitting alone, legs crossed, on the loveseat, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. Bre and Jenna were sharing the couch, both sprawled out in opposite directions.

"Yeah?" I said, looking at my sister.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"What?" I answered her question with a question, although I knew exactly what she meant.

"You're being weird," Jenna chimed in and Bre nodded in agreement.

"Sorry," I apologized, dazed from all the thoughts running through my head.

They giggled in unison.

"Seriously, Jus. What is it?" Jenna asked again.

I knew there was no way that they would let it go. I knew they'd eventually get it out of me and I was much too tired to battle with them. I would lose in the end. So I just told them.

"I'm pregnant," I spoke, my voice monotone.

They both shot up from their lying down positions and looked at me, wide-eyed and waiting for the rest of the story. But they weren't going to hear the rest of it. They couldn't help anyway. After a short silence passed and they realized that was all I had to say, Jenna spoke up.

"Are you sure? Did you go to the doctor? You should. Those tests are wrong all the time."

"I haven't been to the doctor, but Jen, I know. I just know."

"You can't know without going to the doctor! Make an appointment! Oh my God, whose is it? I mean, if there really is an 'it'," Breanne said, frantic.

My mouth dropped open and I reached behind me and picked up a throw pillow. I chucked it at Bre, aiming for her head, but it ended up just landing nicely in her lap. She looked confused.

"What'd I say?" she asked.

"'Whose is it?'" I mocked her.

"What? That's a perfectly valid question. You and Toby haven't been dating long. It could be someone right before him."

"There was no one right before him. That's not even a possibility, Bre. It's his," I told her, getting annoyed.

"Well does he know?"

"Yeah. I told him before I came here. We haven't talked about it yet, though. And he hasn't even called me since I got here. What if he never does? What if…"I trailed off, but knew they'd know what I was thinking.

"If he does that, he's an asshole and you deserve better," Jenna said confidently.

I knew she was right about that and I sat there thinking about what I'd do if he left. Even though we hadn't been together long, the thought of _not_ being together gave me the worst feeling. Like if he did leave I wouldn't be able to even make it. What would I do with myself if I didn't have him? I should have known the answer to that question and it should have been that I would just live because life goes on and without him I still had me. And I should have been enough for myself. But I didn't think that at the time. At the time I thought there was no way the world could even be the world without him.

At about noon the next day I was still waiting for a call, thinking that on my damn _birthday _he was sure to call, but I didn't get it then either. But as we were about to light my birthday candles Jenna told me—rather excitedly, might I add—that someone was at the door for me. Now I had no idea what was going on because everyone in Pittsburgh that could possibly be there was there. And Jenna had the camera out, _filming_ me. My heart was in my throat as I got up from my place at the table and walked to the door.

It was a strange man in sunglasses, a top hot, with a black, very formal, suit on. He was holding balloons and so I guessed he was there for my birthday, but I was trying to figure out if I knew him. Was I supposed to know him?

"Are you Justine?" he asked and I felt relief because no, I was not supposed to know him.

"I am Justine!" I replied in the only way I knew to reply.

I was laughing just because I was nervous and it wasn't normal for a very strange, maybe even creepy-looking man to show up at my door and give me birthday balloons. Did my parents set it up?

He gave me a birthday hat—one of those that little kids got—and told me to put it on. I just said okay and held it on my head, confused and waiting for some explanation. Then he handed me a noise maker and told me to blow into it and I was so shaky-nervous I could barely get it to make a sound. Finally I did.

"I understand it is your birthday," he said.

"It is my birthday!"

"Well, listen to this."

"Okay?" I said, still confused and wondering when this would all make sense.

"Hot hot hot hot hot hot," he sang in the tune of the birthday song and it clicked almost instantly.

I started to laugh because it was the funniest thing ever and funny was Toby's thing much more than romance was. He just wanted to make me laugh. And I was. Bending over from laughing so hard and my stomach even hurt a little.

When the song ended he gave me a certificate, balloons, and sparkling cider, then we posed for a picture together.

After cake, I got up and went to the bathroom (the only place I could think of going for privacy) and called Toby. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should've waited for him to call me. But he sent me a _singing telegram_. I should thank him, right? And really, I just wanted to hear his voice.

He answered on the third, very long, ring.

"Heeyyy," he said, dragging out the word like he had just woken up.

"Toby. Hey," I said.

"Justine," he said my name in a blissful tone that made me blush, "Did you get my gift?"

"I did. Oh my God. I think I can safely say it was the best gift I've ever received."

I laughed lightly and on the other end he did too.

"Glad to hear it."

There was a long pause and I just leaned on the sink, grinning just talking to him because it was all I wanted.

"Justine," he said my name again, breaking the silence, "I do love you, by the way. And I remember everything. Not at first, but eventually."

"Okay," I said it like it was nothing, but really my stomach was filled with so many butterflies.

"Well, I'll see you soon."

"Okay. I love you," I said, knowing he'd say it back and that was the best thing.

"I love you too," he said and I could hear his smile.

He loved me and right then that was all I needed to know.


	12. Chapter 11

I texted Toby when I got to the hotel and he came and helped me bring my stuff up to my room, even though it wasn't much and I really could've done it myself. We talked about Playlist Live and how we were so excited for it and we talked about how nice the weather in Orlando was. It was all pretty casual until we got to my hotel room and we were all alone. That was usually when everything got real anyway.

"So we should probably…" he said, glancing at my stomach, which I instinctively crossed my arms over, "talk."

"Yeah," I agreed.

There was a long pause as each of us waited for the other to speak.

"Actually, I don't really have much to say," he admitted.

"Me neither."

Another pause.

"Well, are you hungry? There's a restaurant here. Should be good. It's one of those places where they cook the food in front of you. You know, and there's fire."

I giggled. "That's fine with me."

He smiled and took my hand, which he squeezed. I squeezed back because I wanted to hold it so tight he wouldn't let it go.

I knew we'd have to talk about it sometime. Not just about _it _it, but everything else too. And I was afraid of that because last time I tried it turned into a fight; it turned into yelling. I didn't want to yell at him. I didn't want him to yell at me. And that's so funny to me now—how back then I just had no idea how bad it could get. How bad it _would_ get.

The next day we went to Universal with a huge group of other YouTubers. It was a magical sort of place, even though I had never been all that into Disney. I kept getting aggravated though because each time I reached for Toby's hand I spotted a camera out and I had to let it fall back to my side. Because Toby and I were just friends. Well, to the viewers, I mean. Everyone else knew.

"Oh my God, you and Toby, Oh my God! I love it," Alli had said earlier, placing a hand over her heart with such excitement I couldn't help but blush.

"You and Toby make such a cute couple," Olga Kay—oh, the irony—commented at dinner and thinking about it now, I just have to laugh.

All the little comments like that made me smile. It made us feel new again. And for a while I saw him like I did a month ago. Impossibly beautiful. Flawless in a way I was afraid I could never be. No imperfections whatsoever. His hair fell just right. I ran a hand through it rather than saying 'God, would it kill you to run a comb through that absolute mess?' His smile lit the world and I admired it just like I did when I first saw him there across the room with his girlfriend that I wished would just disappear. Instead of rolling my eyes at his Tobuscus shirt and asking him why he couldn't wear something else, just for one day, I smiled at it, looking at the big letters and thinking how cute it was that he always wore one.

It was strange how everyone thought we were just a cute couple. Just a sweet new, no problems kind of new. I thought of how much we had already been through and how it probably shouldn't have been that way. But it was and there was no changing it. So just for a few days, surrounded by our friends, we would be new again.

The Harry Potter world was my favorite, even though I had never seen Harry Potter and had no interest in doing so. I got a wand from a little cart and Toby helped me cast some spells. I had buttterbeer, which I had never even heard of, but it was mind-blowingly delicious. The world itself looked so cool and I imagined it would be even better if I was actually into Harry Potter.

We rode a few rides, but when we were about to get in line for the first roller coaster, Toby stopped me.

"Maybe we shouldn't," he said, pulling me aside.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Maybe we shouldn't go on this one."

"Why not? Are you scared?" I joked.

He smiled a little, but then it faded.

"No. I just… it says you shouldn't. On the sign."

I looked to what he motioned at and on the sign there were a lot of words—words that I didn't care to read—and at the very bottom were pictures that had big red x's over them, letting people know who should not be going on the ride. If you had a heart condition, no. If you were a small child, no. But what he was referring to was the drawing of a pregnant woman. I just rolled my eyes and waved it off.

"It's fine," I told him.

"But it says—,"

"Toby," I said in a stern voice, "It's. fine."

He let it go after that and it was fine. Well, I guess it was. I got off and I didn't die or bleed or anything, so I took that as a good sign. And then I went on more. Still fine.

Overall, it was one of my favorite days. It was one of the most carefree sort of days I can remember spending with Toby. There were few days with him when I wasn't worrying about _something_. Right in the back of my mind. Very few days where I could just let everything go and appreciate what we had. And things were just perfect.


	13. Chapter 12

When we went back to our hotel rooms, it was around midnight. Toby came to my room with me, but only to sleep because he'd had a lot to drink and I just never liked to leave him alone in that state. Not when I had control over it anyway.

When I closed the door behind us, he started kissing me, but I placed two hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him away.

"Let's just go to sleep, okay?" I said.

"Okay," he said, still smiling, and kicked his shoes off.

I did the same and then went into the bathroom, putting something more comfy on. I took my contacts out, brushed my teeth, the whole before-bed routine and when I got out Toby was already asleep.

But I must have woken him up when I laid down beside him, because he moved, putting and arm around me and scooted closer.

"I'm so glad you're back," he whispered.

"Me too," I told him sleepily.

"I don't like to be alone, you know."

"Why not?" I asked, suddenly not so tired.

"I don't know. I think it's all just in my head," he told me and I wasn't sure what he meant by that, so I asked.

"What do you mean?"

But I guess he fell asleep right then because I didn't get a reply. I turned my head to look at him and I saw him with his eyes closed gently, peacefully, and it watched him for a minute or two before turning back and laying my head on the pillow. I fell asleep fast.

Playlist Live was short and sweet. It was an escape, in a way, and a much needed one. But after one blissful weekend we were back in Los Angeles-what I considered to be 'the real world'. Because it was just us. Alone in my apartment. Both thinking about everything we should probably have been talking about, but not being able to bring it up. And see that was a problem, I think, because we could only go like that for so long. Eventually, it all came out.

It came out a week after getting back from Orlando because Toby thought he knew everything.

"You shouldn't drink that," he informed me matter-of-factly, motioning to my coffee.

"Why not?" I asked, annoyed.

"Cause it's too much caffeine. It's bad for the," he paused, looking at my stomach because he still couldn't say the word 'baby', "...you know. You should be drinking a lot of water."

"I'm tired. I'm drinking coffee. And I do drink a lot of water," I said, starting to get angry.

He shrugged. "I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your help. I can take care of myself. Way better than you can. In fact, I could argue I'm taking care of both of us," I snapped, tired, hormonal, and even a little nauseated.

"What? Are you fucking kidding me? How are you taking care of me?"

"Are _you_ fucking kidding _me_? Jesus Christ, You're here every goddamn day just because you can't handle being alone. Just because every time I'm not there you end up at the bar, then drive over, just about killing yourself, I'll bet, just because you _can't_ take care of yourself! Just because you 'need' me, but then you won't ever tell me what's bothering you in the first place!" I yelled, setting down my coffee on the counter behind me.

We were on separate sides of the kitchen all of a sudden and I wasn't sure who started backing away, because we were just right beside each other.

He laughed meanly and yelled right back, "I don't need you! I could get along by myself. I just don't want to because I fucking love you. Don't know why, but I do. But hey, if you wanna be alone, that's fine. I'll leave. And let's just break up while we're at it."

"Fine," I said, keeping my voice loud and my tone as angry as I could but really I just wanted to cry.

He walked out my apartment door, slamming it behind him. I got a feeling-a weird feeling-that it wouldn't be the first time I would see that. And then I ran to the bathroom and threw up, because I was pregnant, I guess, but I was also convinced it was the image of him leaving out that door and knowing it would happen so many more times and the fact that we practically just broke up-all of that getting to me, making me physically sick. And I cried for a while, laying on my couch, but I knew it was far from over. So at one in the morning I went to the bar that I knew he would be at. The one closest to his place.

It was a tiny building and in need of many repairs. It was called "The Flame" and only a few of the letters still lit up. From far away it only read "T F me". I didn't want to step foot in there, imagining big scary men in flannel, drunk and fighting one another, and probably a few rats too. So I stayed in the car and waited. At about 1:45, he walked out, stumbling to his car, which I had parked beside.

I got out and went over to him, pulling the sleeves of my gray hoodie down over my hands.

"Justine!" he said my name just as happy as ever and I was relieved.

"Hey Toby," I said, smiling only a little.

I brought him to my car before he could get into his and, to my surprise, he didn't protest. He just went with it and smiled like a little kid, like any other night at 2 AM.

"I missed you," he let me know when I was starting up the car.

I looked at him hard for a moment and like I discovered every time, he was only looking past me.

"I missed you too."

The next morning when he woke up I was making his coffee, like always. He stood at my bedroom door, just looking at me before speaking. Like always.

"I'm sorry," he said like always.

"It's nothing," I said and then sat his cup on the table. Just like always.

This is where I, Justine circa 2014, must interject and say just what I always say about Toby and I: In another time, another place, another world, maybe, we could really have been something good. If things were just a little bit different. If _we_ were just a little bit different. It could have all worked out. But it didn't. Saying that won't spoil the story; it's not such a surprise ending anyway. Besides, it's not about the ending. It's about everything leading up to that. And there was a lot leading up to it.


	14. Chapter 13

"I bought a house," Toby told me over the phone one morning, early April.

"What?" I said, sure I hadn't heard right.

"I bought a house," he repeated.

"Why would you do that?"

I got up from my bathroom floor where I had been laying since six in the morning and sat on the edge of the tub. I was sure I had never been so sick before. Being pregnant sucked.

"I wanted to. I mean, I actually have money now. Why stay in that apartment? And, you know, when the, um, baby comes," he said awkwardly, and I smiled a little because it was the first time he said the real word, "we probably shouldn't be in an apartment."

It was sweet what he'd said, but it just made me feel sick (or maybe that was just the baby) because I knew, even then, that wouldn't happen. That couldn't happen. But I couldn't say that.

"I guess that's true," I agreed.

"Are you okay?" he asked suddenly, confusing me.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sound... not fine."

"Oh, well I don't really feel good. But I mean, other than that I'm alright," I assured him, trying my best to sound really alright.

"Can I help?" he asked and I smiled.

"No, I'll be okay."

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you too," I said and hung up, wondering when we had gotten so comfortable with the three words that we shortened them to just two.

I was trying to imagine myself living with Toby. In a real house. One that I probably decorated because he, like most men, did not understand decoration. They didn't understand throw pillows and flowers, but their wives still had them. I would still have them around the house. And when I tried imagining a baby I imagined a little girl. Blonde hair just like mine when I was little, Toby's hazel eyes, maybe two years old, with a Winnie the Pooh pacifier and blanket, and Minnie Mouse footie pajamas, running over to Toby who had just gotten home from wherever—a meeting, maybe.

And I started to cry. I cried because I knew I would never have any of that. No matter what. Because Toby and I weren't made to last. I hated to think like that because I loved him. I hated to think one day he would walk out of my door and slam it for good. Most of all, though, I hated that one day someone else would have him to hold at 2 AM. And he would make love to them. He would look into their eyes like he looked into mine as he moved in them and at first he'd go slow but then it would be fast and they'd beg for it even faster just like I did. And they'd scream his name and dig their fingernails into his back, maybe even breaking skin because I did once, and they'd leave marks replacing mine, though those probably faded some time before then. And I just hated the idea of someone else having him that way. I wanted to be the only one. I knew I'd find someone else too and I knew I'd be happy but why couldn't I be happy with him? Why couldn't we last? Why were we so goddamn breakable?

I didn't know the answer to any of it and it killed me not knowing. But I wiped away my tears and I sat back up, only then realizing I was back lying down on the floor. I kept telling myself it didn't matter because it was true. It didn't. Not then. Right then I was still with him and later that night he would come over and I'd hold him all night. Next morning we'd fight like hell and he'd storm out, but then after two days he'd come over and we'd do it all again.

He was still mine at the time.

* * *

A/N: Really short chapter, which is why I decided to post it right after the last one. I just couldn't add anything else. I felt like it would take away from the rest.

I'm getting some views, but that's about it. So if you are reading it, maybe let me know with a follow or review or favorite or whatever so I don't just give this up. Although, I'm trying my hardest not to get discouraged and do that.


	15. Chapter 14

"It's there," I told Cat surely.

"I don't see anything."

"Well it's there."

"You're insane, Justine! There's nothing there!" Cat said, tired of the conversation.

"This is the worst thing ever!" I exclaimed, agitated, pulling my shirt back down of my stomach and sitting beside Cat at the end of my bed.

That morning I noticed a slight—apparently not even noticeable—bump that was not there the day before. She said it was nothing, but I could feel it. And I could see it and soon everyone else would be able to too, including my subscribers. I didn't want them to know about it. They wouldn't know about it. Ever. They wouldn't have to.

"You're _so_ overreacting," Cat said.

"I am not!" I defended, "Because it's just gonna get bigger and then everyone's gonna know and I really cannot deal with that right now! There's way too much going on in my life to deal with that! Oh my God!"

I got really hot all of sudden and I started to breathe heavily and then I started to cry so Cat pulled me to her and I laid my head on her shoulder for a minute while I got myself together.

"Hey, did I tell you I'm pretty sure my boyfriend is an alcoholic?" I asked after a minute because I really wanted to get it out there into words but I didn't know how.

"What?" she asked, shocked.

She pulled away from me and I sat up straight, my head feeling heavy.

"I think Toby has a drinking problem, but since I've never actually known an alcoholic I can't be completely sure."

"Wait, do you think he has a _drinking problem_ or do you think he's an _alcoholic_?"

"There's a difference?"

"Yes!" she said it like it was something I should have already known, which made me a little mad, "People with drinking problems drink because of things like stress, thinking it'll make it better when really it just makes it worse. But alcoholics… it's like they need it. And they can't just have one or two drinks. And they feel like it's the most important thing in their life."

"Oh. Well I don't know," I said honestly.

"You have to talk to him about it."

"How?" I asked

"I don't know," she answered with a shrug.

"You're no help, Cat! God!" I exclaimed, probably pretty dramatically.

"I'm sorry! I'm trying. But all I can tell you is you have to bring it up. One of those things you just have to do."

"I don't wanna."

"Of course you don't."

"Cat, I'm sorry I said you're no help. I love you."

She giggled.

"It's fine. I love you too."

The next time I saw Toby after that, I promised myself, I would talk to him about it. And I did. Or I tried to at least. We didn't really have a very good talk. Our arguments were always centered around it, but we never really talked about _it_. We just sort of danced around the real issue, both knowing just what we were doing. So this time I thought I'd focus on it from the start. When he got up to get another beer, I got up too.

"Maybe you shouldn't," I said sheepishly.

"What?" he asked, turning to me.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have another one," I said again, trying to keep it casual—simple.

"Why?"

"Because... You always do."

He rolled his eyes at me and shook his head.

"So?"

"Well, why do you?"

"I just do," he told me simply.

"Well maybe should stop," I suggested.

"Well, honey, that's just never gonna happen," he said with a mean laugh.

"Well... I can't do this."

"What?"

"I can't do this!" I screamed it, surprising us both.

"What can't you do?" he asked, getting louder because I was.

"This! Us! I can't do it! You have a problem. No, problems. And I just can't deal with it anymore! I can't be with someone like you!" I yelled at him and I was tearing up but I didn't want to cry, so I tried to hold it in.

He shook his head and it was quiet for a moment. But what I said hadn't hurt him. It only made him mad. I could tell by his eyes. Cold. They were cold like they never had been before.

"Then go," he said quietly, harshly.

But I couldn't. I wanted to. But I just couldn't go. And I was angry in a way I was sure I had never been. I was angry that he always acted like he didn't care. I was angry because I couldn't tell if he really meant what he said. So I stayed and I looked at him hard, hoping I made him feel like he made me feel. Scared.

"Go! Justine, just go! If you wanna go, I don't care!" he yelled, looking away from me.

"You don't mean that," I said slowly, dragging each word out.

And for a moment his eyes weren't cold anymore. He looked almost afraid. And I got this weird feeling, even in the midst of all the anger, which didn't disappear at all, like I wanted to just go over to him and hold him and tell him it would be okay. Even though another part of me wanted so badly to scream at him and hurt him in some way.

But I decided to just turn around and start walking to the door. I didn't get even close. I felt a hand grab my arm roughly and spin me around. And then he was right in front of me, but he didn't let go. He just looked at me for the longest time. And his grip grew tighter until it started to really hurt. So I tried pulling away but he was so much stronger than me I eventually just gave up. And I was crying too soon, but I wasn't sad at all. I was just mad.

"Let go!" I yelled at him, "Toby, let go!"

And he still didn't. And I tried pulling away again. I failed again.

"You're hurting me!" I screamed as loud as I could and he finally let go, but almost pushing me as he did it.

I had never done anything like I was about to do and I had never once wanted to really hurt anyone. I had never been so angry that I just snapped like that. That I couldn't even think straight. But that side of Toby was a side I had never seen before and it brought out a side of me that I didn't know existed.

I slapped him. It was so quick I didn't even remember doing it. I never made the decision in my head; I just did it. The second I realized it I hated myself.

He staggered back, and put a hand on his cheek. He just looked surprised at first and I probably did too. But that turned to anger quickly.

Everything happened so fast that night. He came at me quick, and pinned me against the wall. Roughly. My back slammed against it and he held me there by my shoulders. Neither of us said a word. He just looked at me with those eyes and I looked back, probably terrified even though I wanted to look strong.

If there's anything I learned from that relationship, though, it's that I wasn't strong. Not at all.

He had me against the wall for what felt like forever and I waited for him to hit me or just do _something_, but he didn't. He just sighed and let go of my shoulders. He backed up and looked at me for a second. He looked tired right then. And then he just walked into his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

I should have went home. I really should have. But instead I just curled up on his couch and I must have fallen asleep because the next time I opened my eyes he was sitting near my feet, looking straight ahead at the TV that wasn't on. And then I sat up and scooted over by him. I laid my head on his shoulder and he put an arm around me. We never said sorry; maybe we weren't.


	16. The End

**A/N:** So I'm not feeling it anymore. Motivated. And that's bad. It's a bad habit—quitting right in the middle of a story. But no one's reading it and I just can't find a reason to keep going, so I'm done with this. I think I'll just stick to short stories.

BUT I already wrote the ending and I like it so much that I'm gonna leave it here. It might not make sense because I didn't write everything leading up to it, but I don't really care. I'm just gonna leave it for anyone who may end up on this story in the future and who may like it and who may want to know how it all ends up.

This is the end of May and I'm sure you're aware that **this is a story about a breakup**. Everything was leading up to this.

* * *

When he came by I felt my stomach knot up. It was over. So over. I just had to open that door and tell him.

_But is that what I wanted?_ I asked myself.

The answer was no. I knew without even thinking it was no. But even if I didn't want it I needed it and it took all my strength to open up that door for him, knowing it was the last time I would ever do that.

"Justine."

He said my name so beautifully—just like it was a song. I had forgotten that. And I had forgotten how much I loved his hair that was always so messy. And his eyes that I realized I had been barely noticing the little flecks of gold in the brown and the green around the iris. And how he looked at me like I had all the answers—like I could fix him. Like I make him whole. He always did have trouble realizing he was whole all on his own.

All of these things I was losing and I wondered why I didn't cherish it before.

"Hey," I said; it was all I could get out at the time.

"I called you," he said, "And, um, texted... you."

I just nodded.

"Is something wrong? Did I do... something? I don't remember it, Justine. I'm sorry."

"You didn't," I began, and took a deep breath, "You didn't do anything."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at me with those eyes that would grow innocent and childish when he really needed an answer—when he really needed me.

"Yes, Toby," I answered in that voice I used with children. I teared up.

"Then what is it?"

I shook my head and looked at the ground. He put a hand on my back and pulled my closer to him. And I cried into his green t-shirt and he stroked my hair. I knew that if I told him he wouldn't be doing that. He'd hate me. So I pulled away.

"I'm so sorry," I told him and I wasn't looking at him but I could imagine his face. Confused. He was the one who apologized.

He waited.

"Don't hate me."

"What? I could never-,"

"Don't hate me," I repeated, looking at him then.

He nodded. He understood. He waited.

"I'm not... like, I'm... not pregnant," I said, wiping away a few tears, which didn't help because others immediately took their place, "Anymore," I added.

He just looked at me, so confused and he just shook his head. He didn't get it. But I didn't want to say the words.

"What do you mean? Did you lose it?"

"No," I said weakly, looking not at him but at the letters on his shirt-written right across his chest. TOBUSCUS.

"Okay. So you. You got an abortion."

He said the words so sharply, so strongly, and showed no emotion.

"Yes," I said and I wanted so badly to say it with that same strong, unbreakable tone but instead my voice shook and another tear escaped my eye.

"Without even talking to me about it. Asking me."

The word was blurry now. I could barely make out 'Tobuscus'. It was more like a gray blob on the green of his shirt.

"Yes," I said.

"I can't fucking believe this. Why would you..." he trailed off, then continued, "I mean, if you had just told me. You didn't even have to ask. If you just told me, I'd..."

"I'm sorry. I just-,"

"No, it's fine. Really. There's nothing keeping us together anymore. We can just end it. That's what you wanted, right?"

"Toby, that's not-,"

"No, no, I get it. I mean, I'm a fucking drunk. Why would you wanna be with me? Why would anyone?"

He started to walk toward the door, then turned back to me.

"But no, you know what, sometimes people _can_ change. I could have changed. I did it once, I could have done it again. I could've made you really happy. The timing was just wrong. You caught me at a bad time. I'm not always like this. Whatever, though. Bye, I guess."

"Toby. Please. Please, please, please. I love you!" I begged.

I wasn't the type to beg. But as he got closer and closer to that door my heart actually _hurt_. Hurt like it never had before and I couldn't imagine him not being there.

"Toby! I need you. I need you."

And he stopped. He stopped right in the doorway and turned. He walked back over to me.

"No you don't, Justine. You're the one who told me you have to learn to be there for yourself. And you shouldn't _need_ anyone but you. That's what _you_ said. You have to believe it yourself too."

And I was shocked because he said that so sternly, so surely. And it was true and I had said that. And as he walked back to the door the farther he got the less I felt like myself. I felt like my entire world had revolved around him for so long that I forgot about myself. I forgot myself. So there I was and when the door closed I laid myself down on the floor, right in that same spot I held him at 2:04 a.m. on Thursday and I curled up tight into a ball, and I ached.

I knew it was right. I knew the relationship was wrong. I knew he would never quit with me there. He needed to quit for himself, so he needed to be alone. But within him I lost myself and I didn't even realize it. I guess that was what happened to him too. Maybe he was lost in the taste or in the buzz and he couldn't fathom getting along without it like I could fathom getting along without him right at that moment.

And I just kept thinking if I had kept the baby he would still be here. Or if I told him. If I explained why I couldn't be a mother. He would understand, I knew. So why didn't I just do that?

But now, three years later, as I'm sitting with Ryan, my boyfriend of two years, and my sister and Toby's with Jack on the other side of the room, I know. I watch as he turns down a beer and takes a Coke and I know he did it thinking of himself and no one else. And I know that if Ryan decided to leave one day, if he decided he didn't love me and loved someone else instead, I knew I'd be okay. I'd still be me and the ocean would still be the ocean and the trees would still be the trees. I knew I could make it on my own, because I was a person. A whole person. I didn't need someone else to 'complete' me. I _was_ complete.


End file.
